


space boy is not synonymous with henry denton

by bot18



Category: We Are The Ants - Shaun David Hutchinson
Genre: Angst, Fluff and Angst, M/M, This time Henry comes into the car with Marcus, fluff if you squint, its like 'omg look at the fluff' and then its all downhill from there, like really squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2020-10-30 09:03:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20769029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bot18/pseuds/bot18
Summary: this time, henry reluctantly goes back in the car with marcus. it's a late night, and he wants to get his mind of the other shitty parts in his life. so marcus is the place to go, right?on the other hand, marcus wants something different. he wants henry denton, not space boy.





	space boy is not synonymous with henry denton

**Author's Note:**

> hey y'all :) back at it again with a fic. i wanted to try something more angsty, less simple heart-ache-y. tried my hand at it with one of my faves. leave a kudos and a comment! don't underestimate their powers :)

Laying down on Marcus’ bed, white sheets bumbling across their bodies; a scenario that occurred way too many times to take note of, but Marcus does anyway. This time it’s not a phrase, or a smile, (or the absence of one) that highlights this moment in regards to the others.

It all began stewing a few hours ago with Marcus arguing for him to get back in his car. The streetlights streamed opaque and hazy, lining up with Space Boy’s outline. 

In a surprising turn of events, Space Boy had hopped right into Marcus’ car. It didn’t go without notice that it was in a defeatist attitude. And along the way, he even convinced him to stay the night. He agreed, too tired to argue.

Space Boy probably expected another fuck—he did, too. After Space Boy swapped his dirty clothes for his own, Marcus was simply viewing on the comfort of his bed, expecting this night to go just as any other.

But it didn’t. Space Boy waited for a suggestive prompt (Marcus did as well), but it never came. 

“Space Boy,” Marcus called, his voice unintentionally wavering. He patted the space next to him. He was being softer. He didn’t know why. 

Even Space Boy detected it. Marcus knew that to him he’s just not Jesse, not Jesse. Every action was testing out a new base in their “relationship”; it could either completely make or break the ties between them.

He gingerly sat down on the bed. Oh, if he could, Marcus would brush over his lips with his thumb, or card his fingers in his hair. But he put himself here. He said all those nasty comments and actions and made him feel stark. Space Boy relied on Marcus’ cruelty. Was it selfish to try and change the one controlled factor in his life?

But that’s what he was. Selfish, selfish, selfish.

So Marcus did what he wanted to do. Marcus pulled him up against himself, smelling the mix of his detergent and Henry. He found his nose nestled in the crook of his neck. Marcus had brushed against the same spot millions of times before, but the difference was like seeing something you’ve only been feeling, an abstract idea bursting into reality. 

Henry took a complete 360°. The hand half-heartedly cradling Marcus tightened, trembling. His eyes, once glazened, focused on Marcus. 

Kissing Henry, he felt the room slip beneath his feet. Kissing Henry with as much heart he’s got made him feel vulnerable, as if the room released him into the midst of stars, all alone and scared. But Marcus could also drift carelessly with the asteroids, letting whatever force take reckless abandon on him. It felt good.

Grasping Henry’s hand, Marcus wanted to look into his eyes and spark something between them. A fresh start, a new beginning. He began circling his thumb across Henry’s skin, wanting to care for him, if only Henry would open his boundaries to love. Loving him.

Henry’s eyes snapped open, body stiff. All of a sudden the air around him felt tight and impenetrable. 

“Marcus.” He said curtly. “Don’t,” He whispered, nearing a plea. “You’re not supposed to be...You’re not Jesse. You’re not Jesse.” 

As quick as they opened, his eyes gleamed with the inkling of tears, yet they seemed a mix of furious as well. “Henry, I’m—I didn’t mean to—”

“I don’t think you understand what you are to me.” Each word spiked a wound on his chest. “What we have isn’t...a fairy tale. It’s not sparks and lights and...love. It’s shitty. Shitty is what I need. I thought you might’ve needed this too.”

“No, you don’t understand, Henry. This can be a fairy tale. It can be—I can be—”

Henry looked at Marcus. A whole world powered and cranked in that head of his. Marcus digested Henry’s almost pitiful look, and how his body closed up and retreated into his bedsheets. He knew whatever pumped the gears for that world, he wasn’t a part of it.

“Henry…”

“Please don’t look at me like that.” Space Boy whispered.

Without Marcus even noticing, his bed was empty, forgetting the space he took up.

“Your loss, Space Boy.”


End file.
